


Through the River

by spelldlikedevon



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Fasten your seatbelts folks, in which the author attempts to flex what little knowledge he has of greek mythology, this is gonna be a long one, wondertrev
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-30 22:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11473122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelldlikedevon/pseuds/spelldlikedevon
Summary: Can Steve and Diana find a way to overcome even death to be together?





	1. Awakening

Steve Trevor’s eyes snapped open and he sat up sharply, his breathing heavy. He remembered an airplane, a cocked gun, a blinding flash of light. It must have been a nightmare, because the details were already slipping away from him like mist burning off in the morning light. The boat rocked gently beneath him, waves slapping rhythmically against its hull. The night was dark, and he could barely see a few yards ahead into the water. He turned to check on Diana and froze. The figure at the back of the boat was not Diana. Steve guessed it was a man, but as it was cloaked and hooded all he could do was guess. Two hands were all he could see of the mysterious figure, holding onto a pole that was propelling the boat through the water. Brain whirling, he opened his mouth to ask something, he wasn’t sure what, when the boat came to a sudden stop with enough force to throw him to his hands and knees. As he picked himself up off the floor of the boat, the hooded figure glided past him and stepped onto the shore. It turned back toward him, and spoke a single word.

“Come.”

Steve scrambled to follow as the man—the voice had sounded male, at any rate—started up the gentle slope away from the water. The air was thick with fog and he didn’t want to lose his guide in the dim light. As he drew abreast of the stranger, Steve fired a question at him. “What the hell is going on?”

“All will be explained in time,” the man intoned. Steve drew in a breath to begin demanding answers, but the man raised one hand sharply, palm facing towards Steve, and the words died in Steve’s throat. There was an overwhelming air of authority about this person that discouraged challenge. As they continued walking, the ground on either side of them rose until they were in a wide canyon. Steve eyed the sheer rock walls with unease, feeling like he was being boxed in. His military-trained brain was screaming _this is the perfect place for an ambush!_ at him. After a few more minutes of traveling in silence, a dark shape appeared in the fog that materialized into a tall wrought-iron gate. What captured Steve’s attention, though, was the massive three-headed dog lying on the ground next to the gate. One of its heads was resting on its paws, but the other two were looking intently at him. They didn’t growl, just…watched him. Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The gate swung open seemingly of its own accord, and Steve’s guide drew to the side opposite the dog. With one hand, he gestured through the gate.

“Enter. Follow the path to the throne room.”

Steve saw no option but to continue forward. The path in front of him was clear, and trying to go back would probably antagonize both the hooded figure and the dog. He strode forward, the gate closing silently behind him. It was soon lost in the fog. As he walked, he tried to collect his thoughts and piece together what was going on. All he could remember, though, were the last fragments of his strange dream: the roar of airplane engines, the feel of a gun in his hand, and that flash of light. It was as though he was trying to grasp something very large and slippery, and it kept sliding out of his reach no matter what he did.

He lost track of how long he walked. He tried counting his steps, but got bored and gave up somewhere in the eight thousands. The light remained dim, the fog thick. Every now and then the fog would shift and he would see a rock formation, or a cluster of pale flowers. He kept placing one foot in front of the other, step after step on the cool rock beneath him, and eventually he noticed that visibility was improving. The path had been rising gently for some time; a part of his brain that was still working told him that it must be taking him above the fog. He could now see that the path, which had been straight, began twisting back and forth as it worked its way up the side of a mountain. Looking back, all he could see was the path descending straight into fog as far as the eye could see. He squared his shoulders and continued on, and eventually came to a wide arch set in the mountain. He must be getting close, he thought. The ground beneath his feet changed from rough rock to finished tile, and the tunnel he now walked in was lit by a cold light that did not flicker, cast from orbs set in sconces high on the wall. At long last, the tunnel opened into a cavernous circular room with a high ceiling. At the opposite side of the room were steps to a dais, and a throne. On that throne, someone waited for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have waited far too long to start working on this! It started as a simple prompt answer and exploded and took on a life of its own.


	2. Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana gets back on her feet.

The sun was well into the sky by the time Diana actually stopped moving and sat down. Charlie, Chief, and Sameer had been on the airfield, working with the German soldiers to find the wounded and get them to the hastily constructed medical tent. Diana hadn’t been part of this effort; as soon as Ares had been defeated and she’d checked in with the team, she had taken off again, sprinting out into the fields in the direction the plane had gone. The boys had watched her run off with sad eyes.

“Does she know she’s not going to find anything out there?” Charlie had asked in his thick Scottish brogue. Sameer had turned to look at him give him a gentle reproving shove.

“Ever the pragmatist, you are. Of course she knows that!” Sameer’s eyes had drifted back in the direction Diana had disappeared. “Still has to look anyway.”

“I don’t blame her,” Chief had said mildly. “If he survived, it wouldn’t be the strangest thing that’s happened today” Sameer had nodded somberly, but Charlie’s skepticism had remained clear on his face.

She had run until she saw bits of plane strewn across the earth: a bent piece of metal here, a scrap of fabric there. She even found the skeleton of a pilot’s chair, as twisted as everything else, but no Captain Trevor. Even though she knew no man could survive that blast, the fruitlessness of her search still threatened to unleash the grief she’d been keeping held tightly in check. Diana could feel it surging like a great river building behind a dam, and she knew that the smallest crack in her control would cause the full weight of her pain to burst forth and drown her. Fighting the grief down, she kept moving, kept looking. Eventually she had combed a broad swath of land and still come away empty-handed. Well, mostly empty-handed. She returned to the airfield, exhausted and clutching a small object in one hand. As she came to a stop, Sameer sprang off of the overturned crate where he’d been sitting and gestured to it. Diana gave him a grateful look and sat, resting her elbows on her thighs and letting her head drop.

“Nothing, then?” asked Charlie. She looked up at him, her eyes anguished.

“This was all I could find.” She opened her hand. A small metal cross lay in her palm, the enamel scored by burn marks. One corner was bent up at an odd angle. They recognized it immediately as a part of a German officer’s uniform. 

“I’m so sorry, Diana.” Sameer rested a hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, and at this small gesture she felt the dam that was holding her grief in check weaken.

“What can I do to help?” She raised her head again. She couldn’t stay still, couldn’t sit and give the pain a chance to overwhelm her.

“They’re tending the wounded over there,” Charlie said, jerking his head toward the medical tent. The words were hardly out of his mouth before she was on her feet again, striding determinedly in the direction he had indicated. As she disappeared around a pile of rubble, Sameer looked first at Charlie, then at Chief, his face bleak. She had been trembling when he’d touched her, and he understood that she was wrapping unimaginable grief in as many layers of armor as she possibly could. The two men met his gaze, their faces equally grim. They would all do anything for this incredible woman, and they all knew that there was nothing they could do to ease her pain. “Well,” Charlie said, breaking the moment of silent understanding between them, “we’d best find a telephone and figure out how we’re getting back to London.” He and Chief rose to their feet and the three men trooped off, glad to have their own task to accomplish.

Diana stayed in the medical tent for hours. Like every Amazon, she had been trained in basic battlefield wound care, and the two German medics accepted her help gratefully. She washed wounds and tied bandages, helped set and splint broken bones, and had a kind word and gentle touch for every patient she passed. As the day stretched longer, the medics stepped out in shifts to get food and fresh air, and encouraged Diana to do the same. She refused. She had to keep moving, keep working. All of her memories of the previous few hours lay swirling just below the surface, and work was the only thing keeping them from bursting out. From time to time throughout the day Sameer poked his head in the tent, saw her still working feverishly, and withdrew. Eventually, though, all the wounds were clean, the bones set, the patients settled. Diana looked around, suddenly at a loss. The sun was going down, its rays slanting through the open flap of the medical tent. She shuddered. The orange light reminded her too much of the gas that had swirled around her as she had wandered through the village of Veld, surrounded by the eerie stillness of death. A wave of everything she had been repressing swept over her and she sat hard on a nearby stool, her legs suddenly weak. She took several long, deep breaths, fighting to keep from being overwhelmed. 

“Diana?” She looked around. Charlie had come in the tent and was standing at her side. “We were able to get in touch with Etta and arrange passage back across the channel. Sammy found a truck that’s in good enough shape to get us to the coast. Chief’s got dinner cooking.” She nodded wordlessly, and Charlie’s businesslike attitude softened. “You haven’t eaten all day, lass,” he said, more gently than she’d ever heard him speak. “You need to keep your strength up.” He reached out tentatively and, like Sameer had done, laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know what it’s like,” he said quietly. Then, he turned abruptly on his heel and hurried out of the tent. As she watched him go, she thought back to the night they had met Chief and camped under the stars. Charlie had awoken from a nightmare, calling out in his sleep to people long gone, and had shrugged her off when she’d tried to comfort him. His small gesture of support now warmed her heart, just a little, underneath the tide of her grief. Rolling her shoulders, she rose to her feet. Charlie was right. She wasn’t hungry, but she couldn’t just stop eating. She would try and force down a few mouthfuls of whatever it was that Chief had made. 

As she crossed the tent towards the entrance, she could hear the patients calling out towards her. “Guten nacht, Wunderfrau.” “Danke, Wunderfrau.” Wunderfrau. Wonder Woman. These men—these  _ boys _ —whom she’d been fighting against only a day before were already looking at her with awe in their eyes, had already come up with a name for her. She had tried to get them to call her Diana, but too many of them had seen her fight with Ares. Too many of them were in this tent because of wounds  _ she _ had given them. She felt a stab of regret as she remembered her rage, remembered how she had torn through the ranks of gas-masked soldiers, throwing them aside like they were children armed with sticks. She had been so  _ angry! _ This day she had spent working to tend to their wounds was as much her own personal penance as it was a way to keep herself too busy to think. All the same, their gratitude touched her. She strode from the tent and went in search of Chief and the rest of the team.

They had set up camp a short distance from the airfield. Chief must have either made friends with a requisition officer or made a lucky find, because he managed to whip up a stew that made even Diana’s mouth water. As she had thought, she could only manage a few bites, but she was grateful that it went down easy. They all settled in for the night, Charlie taking the first watch. Although they had made peace with the soldiers on the airfield, it was hard to ignore the fact that they were still in German territory. If another group of German soldiers stumbled upon their camp, things could still get ugly very quickly. Diana settled in, a cloak wrapped around her more for comfort than for warmth. The last thing she saw as she drifted off was Charlie, sitting on a box with his rifle leaning against his side.

 

* * *

Diana’s eyes snapped open. She was lying on the hard asphalt, her ears ringing. Disoriented. Where was she? As she struggled to get her bearings, she felt two strong arms help her to her feet. She was looking into eyes of impossible blue. Felt his hands against her face. He was telling her something. “I wish we had more time.” She blinked. He was gone. She looked up and two bands of metal were soaring towards her. They wrapped around her, pinned her, slammed her to the ground. Tightening, constricting. She wrenched one arm free. Gasping for air, her vision going black at the edges, she looked up into the stormy sky. She could barely make out the blurred outline of something large flying into the clouds. “Steve…” He was in that plane. She had to get free. Had to get to him. As she watched, there was a blinding flash of light in the sky. She screamed as the world exploded.

She jerked upright, still screaming. The cloak she’d wrapped around her fell to the ground. She was near the airfield, but there was no fighting, no explosions. The echoes of her scream were rapidly fading into stillness. Charlie was watching her from across the fire with eyes full of pained understanding. She looked up at the stars, trying to gauge how much time had passed since she had fallen asleep. Barely an hour had passed. As she stood and stretched, trying to shake off the terrible images of her dream, she looked around. Most of the lamps around the airfield were out, but the medical tent still glowed with a warm light and she could a shadow moving against the canvas walls. One of the medics must be making his rounds, tending to the patients. She sighed deeply, then walked around the fire towards Charlie. He pulled over another box, and she sat. They watched the stars slowly turn in silence, neither wanting to face the demons that lurked in their dreams.

 

* * *

By morning, Diana was exhausted. She had gone nights with little sleep during training exercises on Themiscyra, but never had she so needed to sleep after such a physically and emotionally taxing day. When Sameer had awoken to relieve Charlie, he had encouraged her to try sleeping again, and she had tried. It hadn’t been long, though, before she’d awoken again, gasping for air and clawing at her neck. The nightmare that time had started as a sweet dream of Steve, face close to hers and gentle hands on her cheeks. All at once, though, Steve had transformed into Ares and those hands had closed around her throat, choking the life from her. After that, she did not sleep again.

They broke camp quickly, munching on hard bread and jerky provided by the Germans, and were soon on their way to the coast. Charlie sat in the front of the truck next to Sameer, Chief in the back with Diana. As they had settled in, he, like the other two, had reached out to touch her shoulder in support. Though his was the briefest of the three, something in his eyes told her that he also understood about agonizing loss in a very real way. She thought back to his words on the night they had met: “The last war took everything from my people.” While her pain didn’t lessen, she found strength in knowing that she was surrounded by such support.

The trip to the coast was a quiet one. Every now and then, Charlie and Sameer would share a few words in a low undertone, but Diana had nothing to say. During the night her grief had slowly iced over behind the dam of her self-control. Amazons didn’t get cold; she had kept Steve warm for a few wonderful moments during their first night camped out in Belgium, and the cloak she’d slept in last night had been more for comfort than for warmth. There was a chill that had crept into her bones, though, since she had come down from the adrenaline rush of fighting another god. It had stolen over her in the long hours of her nighttime vigil, settling deeper and deeper into her core. She remembered a story Steve had told her on that magical night in Veld as they lay in the afterglow of their passion, their bodies entwined and his skin warm against hers. As a teenager, he had broken through the ice on a lake in his hometown to jump in the water on a dare, and he described how the water was so cold that it stole the feeling from his arms and legs. She hadn’t been able to imagine it then, but now she thought she understood. Only, the cold she now felt deadening her senses had nothing to do with temperature, and couldn’t be banished by blazing fires or warm clothes. Scenes of stately forests and rolling hills that might have once captured her fancy now flashed by, completely lost on the mourning Amazon. Chief sat with her without speaking, and somehow in his silence she felt solidarity.

Eventually they turned off the main road onto a much less well-used track through the hills. The sound of the ocean reached Diana’s ears and her heart ached for home. She missed her mother and her shield-sisters. — _ I don’t even know if I can get home _ , she thought bitterly to herself, and her hand closed around the battered metal cross tucked into a pocket of her cloak. It was all she had left of the mortal man she had grown to love. Soon they were climbing out of the truck and winding their way down a narrow track set in the cliff’s face towards the shore. Waiting at anchor, its gangplank extended, was the same boat that had taken them across the channel only a few short days before. Diana liked the captain. He had unusually kind eyes, she thought, for a man who made his living skirting the law. The captain had apparently been briefed on the events of the day before by Etta, because he only asked Sameer a few short questions about their journey from the airfield as he turned the boat around and they got underway. Diana sat in the back of the boat, staring dully out over the railing. Being back on the water reminded her of another boat ride, not too long ago. Of a man who’d made a place for her to sleep then settled himself against the rail because “it wasn’t polite to assume.” Of days spent talking, laughing, getting to know each other. She seemed to be seeing those memories from a long way away, though. almost as if they belonged to another person. As the boat chugged along, she watched her memories flicker in the distance like shadow-puppets on a faraway wall.

Diana paid no attention to how much time had passed, the waves slapping against the rocking boat as it cut through the water towards England, when something finally caught her attention. A tugboat’s foghorn snapped her out of her dull reverie, and she looked up into the late afternoon sun to see nearly the exact view of London she’d first had when she and Steve arrived. With a flash of searing pain that cut through the chill in her bones, she was transported back to that moment. She saw him in the back of her Themiscyran craft, eyes on her as she took in the sights and smells of London for the first time. She heard his dry “Yeah, it’s not for everyone!” and saw those bottomless blue eyes dance with suppressed humor. She gasped, pressing her hand to her heart, and Sameer was at her side in a flash. He had apparently been lurking nearby.

“Diana! Are you all right?” But the pain was already fading, dulled by the cold numbness that filled her. She looked up at him and nodded, lips twitching slightly in a feeble attempt at a smile. Sameer didn’t look convinced, but he wandered away again. It wasn’t long before the captain had steered the boat alongside a quay and tied it snugly down. She took his proffered hand as she exited the craft although she could have easily managed on her own. Somewhere underneath the numbness she understood that it was a gesture of kindness and respect. No sooner had they all alighted on the stone pavement than Diana saw a short and rather stout woman with rich auburn hair came bustling over.

“Ah! You’ve made it safely! Thank God! I’m so glad you’re all ok!” That seemed to be directed at all of them, but it was Diana who Etta made a beeline for and threw her arms around. As Etta pulled away, she continued talking without missing a beat. “Thank you so much, John, for picking them up on such short notice. As we agreed?” She reached into her handbag and passed the captain a thick envelope. “I’m assuming you three—” this was directed at Charlie, Sameer, and Chief— “have your favorite haunts in town?” The three of them nodded. “Lovely! Well then! I took the liberty of nosing around in Sir Patrick’s office and let’s just say you’ll all be getting a nice bonus courtesy of our favorite late Greek god!” She raised her eyebrows significantly as she fished in her handbag once more and distributed more envelopes, all significantly thicker than the first. “And you, my dear,” she said, her eyes gentling but the businesslike tone never leaving her voice, “will be staying with me until we can get papers for you and find you a place of your own. Come, come! You must be starving. I can whip you up something quick to eat once we get you settled.” Diana’s goodbyes were brief. With Charlie, it was a firm handshake. His eyes were still incredibly understanding, though. She and Chief grasped each other’s forearms, as they had done when they first met, and he murmured a Blackfoot blessing over her. When she turned to Sameer, he wrapped her in a brief but fierce hug, then held her at arm’s length and looked at her for a long moment before letting her go. Etta was right by her side then, taking one of her arms and steering her away into the busy street.

The two women wound their way through the crowded London streets, Etta prattling on and Diana lost in her numbness, until at last they stopped before a red door with “41B” on it in gold lettering. “Here we are, love,” Etta said, releasing Diana and fishing in her handbag. “Aha!” She produced a key and opened the door, then led the way up a flight of stairs to a second door, which she unlocked with a second key. This door opened into a modest flat, simply yet stylishly furnished. Etta hung up her keys and her hat and led Diana over to the small couch. “Now, you sit right there and I’ll put on a cuppa and get started on dinner. You must be starving!” With that, Etta disappeared into the kitchen. Diana still had no appetite, but she knew that she had to continue forcing herself to eat. She doubted she could starve to death, being a demigoddess, but her Amazon training had instilled in her the need to keep the body fit and battle-ready at all times. It wasn’t long before the kitchen filled with the sound of a kettle singing, and soon after that Etta came bustling out with a tray bearing a teapot, cup, cream, and sugar. She set the tray down and poured a cup for Diana. “Sugar, dear?” Diana shook her head. “Well, here you are. I’ll have some proper food out in a bit!” And she disappeared again. Diana took the teacup carefully and raised it to her lips, sipping carefully. The drink was strong and bitter—but not unpleasantly so—and Diana sipped again. If Steve hadn’t introduced her to tea while she was still in London with him, it would have come as quite a shock. They didn’t have drinks like this on Themiscyra. Though the tea did nothing to banish the hollow feeling that had settled over her, Diana felt her tense muscles relax a little as the warm drink settled in her stomach.

For a while she sipped in silence, listening to Etta cooking and humming tunelessly to herself in the kitchen around the corner. It wasn’t long before smells were wafting out that would have brought Diana eagerly to the table under different circumstances. Even in her current state, she thought to herself that she could do a whole lot worse than trying to eat whatever it was Etta was whipping up. Apparently Diana wasn’t the only one Etta’s cooking was tempting; as she sat there, sipping her tea, a small black-and-white-and-orange face peeked around the couch. Its owner, a lithe calico cat, came slinking around the couch and sat, looking up at Diana with somber eyes. The two surveyed each other for a long moment, and then the cat leaped lightly onto the couch, rubbed against Diana, and curled up in her lap and started purring. Eventually Etta came hurrying out of the kitchen and, in a flurry of activity, soon had the table set for two. As she finished, she looked over towards the couch and saw Diana with the cat on her lap.

“I don’t believe it!” Etta exclaimed. “I’ve never known Eloise to so much as show her face the first time someone visits! And here she is, sitting on you like the two of you are old friends!” Shaking her head, she changed tracks without missing a beat. “Anyway, dinner’s ready. You just sit yourself down at the table and I’ll dish you up some. I hope you’re ok with soup; the rationing makes it hard to do anything fun in the kitchen these days.” Diana glanced down at her lap, not particularly wanting to unseat her small companion. Etta saw the look and hurried over to the couch, reaching for the cat. “And  _ you _ , Eloise! Trying to keep a guest from her dinner! You should be ashamed of yourself!” She picked the cat up and gave her a fond stroke before setting her down on the floor. Eloise, without a hint of shame, sauntered away and disappeared around the corner into the kitchen. Diana rose and followed Etta to the table, settling herself in one of the chairs as Etta returned to the kitchen. A moment later, two bowls of steaming soup and a large plate of fresh bread were on the table and Etta was sitting catty-corner from her. Diana picked up a spoon and dipped it into the bowl, then raised it to her lips while Etta watched her with an anxious expression. Diana’s lips quirked upward faintly in an attempt at a smile and she dipped the spoon in the soup again. Etta understood this to be a sign of approval, looking incredibly relieved and beginning to chatter on about soup and recipes and secret family ingredients. Diana didn’t speak throughout the meal, letting Etta fill the silence with idle talk about this or that. She found the sound of Etta’s voice soothing, the light topics on which she touched a welcome distraction for a heart heavy with loss and sorrow. Etta seemed to understand, and kept up a steady flow of one-sided conversation. 

Eventually both women had finished and Etta rose to clear the dishes away. Diana had only managed to get through half a bowl of soup and a few bites of bread. As Etta carried Diana’s dishes to the kitchen, she thought sadly of the vibrant young woman who had demolished a full plate of fish and chips with gusto in a pub not too many nights ago. The Diana who sat at her dining room table, now staring dully into space, seemed like a shadow of that young woman. When the dishes were clean and the extra food put away, Etta returned to the table and stretched out a hesitant hand to touch her guest’s shoulder.

“Diana?” The eyes that looked up and met hers were hollow, and Etta ached for her. “The spare bedroom is all yours, if you’d like to get some rest.” Etta hesitated. “You look exhausted.” Diana nodded to show her understanding and rose. Etta led the way past the couch down a short hallway and opened a door on her right, entering the room. As Diana followed her in, Etta spoke again. “There are fresh towels here for you, and there’s nothing in the dresser at the moment but we’ll get that fixed up straight away. I left a dressing gown hanging in the closet, but it will be dreadfully short on you. I’m afraid none of my nightgowns will fit you…” Etta trailed off, but Diana shook her head to indicate that she would be fine. “Washroom is at the end of the hall, and my door is right across from yours if you need anything.” Etta hesitated again, then laid a gentle hand on Diana’s arm and looked squarely up into her face. “Is there anything else I can do?” Diana shook her head. She tried to thank Etta for everything, but the words wouldn’t come out. Etta seemed to understand, though, and gave Diana’s arm one last squeeze before retreating from the room and closing the door behind her.

Diana sat on the bed, numb and exhausted. Her body cried out for rest. She knew she would have to try to sleep, but she feared the memories that lurked on the other side of consciousness. At least the chill that filled her bones kept those horrible images out of her waking mind’s eye. She heard footsteps, humming, water running. That must be Etta, getting ready for bed herself. Diana waited until she heard more footsteps and a door closing, then rose and opened her own door. Walking into the washroom, she shut the door softly behind her and flicked the light switch. In the sudden flare of light, she looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized the listless, dead-eyed creature that stared back at her. The wide-eyed, idealistic young Amazon that had set off so determinedly from Themiscyra was still in there somewhere, she supposed, but she was buried under an unimaginable weight of grief and loss. Diana sighed and ran her hands through her hair, then turned one of the taps, filling her cupped hands with water to splash on her face. She was stalling and she knew it. The thought of sleep terrified her. She had no doubt she would have to relive that horrible moment again, but she had to try. She needed rest. Sighing again, she shut the water off and left the washroom, turning out the lights as she went. 

Back in her room, she began unbuckling her armor and letting it fall away from her body. It would need to be oiled; that would give her something to do. She took her time with each buckle, each piece of armor, her dread mounting as each piece that came off seemed to also strip away a piece of her internal defenses as well. All too soon the armor lay in a neat pile on the floor and Diana stood by the bed, feeling completely naked despite the bands of linen that still encircled her chest and hips. For a long time she stood eyeing the bed, trying to work up the courage to face her subconscious again. Eventually she sighed a third time and pulled aside the bed coverings, getting in the bed and shifting around to get comfortable. After nights of sleeping on the hard earth cushioned only by a cloak, the bed felt luxurious. Despite her fear, she arched her back and let herself relax into its softness. Drawing a pillow to her, she closed her eyes and waited for unconsciousness to find her.

Unconsciousness never came to Diana. She spent a long night shifting positions, sometimes closing her eyes and sometimes staring into the darkness, but sleep eluded her. Though her body cried for rest, her brain refused. If her grief was a river, backed up behind a dam and frozen over, her mind was a willful child, skating on its surface and refusing to stop or come inside. All night her mind spun in circles, shifting from thought to thought and never settling on any one thing in particular. She watched the room gradually grow lighter as dawn approached, and saw the first rays of sunlight slant into the room through the part in the curtains. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed after sunrise when she heard a gentle tap on her bedroom door. Diana was up at once, crossing the room and reaching for the handle.

“Good mo—” Etta, who had started speaking as soon as the door moved, trailed off as she came face-to-chest with a very tall, very muscular, very nearly naked Diana. “Um. Would you, ah, would you like some breakfast? Coffee, perhaps?” Etta forced her eyes upwards to Diana’s face. “Oh, love,” she said softly, “you look as if you haven’t slept a wink! Come on, now. Let’s get you something to put around yourself and then we’ll find you something to put  _ in _ yourself. I don’t know how you’re not  _ freezing _ …” She brushed past Diana and entered the room, retrieving the dressing gown from the closet and slipping it around the taller woman. Etta had been right; the dressing gown only hung down to Diana’s calves. Diana followed her host down the hall and sat at the table as Etta busied herself in the kitchen. Soon Etta was back at the table, setting bread and cheese and coffee in front of Diana. Diana nibbled at the bread—she still wasn’t hungry—and took a sip of the coffee. It didn’t take her long to push the coffee away; she could feel ice skating child in her head pick up speed on the frozen lake. After a quiet breakfast, Etta looked at Diana, opened her mouth, and hesitated.

“I have a couple of things I need to get done today. Would you like to come out with me?” Diana turned this over in her head. She didn’t think she could face the world of men. She shook her head.

“Would you like me to stay here with you?” Diana considered this as well. Had Etta not just said she had things to do? Diana shook her head again.

“Are you sure?” Etta looked extremely worried. Diana nodded. “Well, all right…I guess. You’re welcome to browse the library if you like.” She gestured to a small bookcase. “I don’t have very much but my father left me some wonderful classics. Are you all done, love?” Diana nodded once more. Etta cleared the table and then retreated down the hall to wash and dress. When she emerged from her room a short while later, Diana was still sitting quietly at the table. It didn’t look like she’d moved at all.

“Diana?” The Amazon looked over at her. “There’s a nice view into the courtyard from the balcony. Sometimes the neighbor children come out to play.” Etta indicated a pair of French doors set in the wall opposite the couch behind lace curtains. At the mention of children, she saw the first hint of life flicker briefly in Diana’s eyes. The accompanying nod seemed less listless than Diana’s previous responses. Etta crossed to her front door and turned back, her hand on the doorknob. “All right, then…well…I’ll be back.” Again Diana tried to thank Etta for everything. The food, the bed, the caring attention. Again Diana found the words just out of her grasp. And then Etta was gone.

Etta came home around lunchtime to check on Diana and found her on the couch with Eloise in her lap. After making sandwiches and making sure Diana ate at least half of one, Etta left again. She returned as the shadows were lengthening to start dinner. This time Diana was out on the balcony, and Etta could hear the sounds of children playing through the open door. They followed the same routine of dinner, with Etta sharing the interesting trivialities of her day. Once the meal was cleared away they sat together in the main room, Diana on the couch and Etta in a wingback chair. Eventually Etta rose to prepare for bed and Diana followed suit, and they went to their respective rooms for the night. Again Diana didn’t sleep.

They followed this routine for two more days, Etta growing more and more frantic at Diana’s obvious lack of sleep and continued silence. Etta had taken to wringing her hands and muttering to herself as she moved about the flat whenever she was home. On the third day, Etta asked Diana over lunch if she could bring a doctor home to see her. Diana shook her head emphatically although she knew her exhaustion was showing. That morning before breakfast, Diana had stumbled into the small coffee table in the living room and caused the vase on it to wobble dangerously. Despite her exhaustion, Diana’s inhuman reflexes kicked in and she dived headfirst over the table, catching the falling vase before it hit the ground. She rolled out of the dive and came up on the balls of her feet with vase in hand. She had been quite certain she’d heard Etta, who had poked her head out from the kitchen in time to see the whole thing, mutter something about “warrior women” in a dark undertone that was not meant to be overheard. While Etta was gone in the afternoon, Diana caught herself drifting off and snapping awake as she sat outside watching the children play. That evening, as Diana was sitting on the couch idly petting Eloise around the ears, she noticed Etta watching her over the top of her book. The moment their eyes met Etta dropped her eyes back to her book, but Diana caught Etta eyeing her another three times before they rose to retire to their rooms for the night. Diana wanted to tell Etta not to worry, but she still couldn’t get words out. She hadn’t spoken since the night of her nightmares. Once in her room, Diana shrugged off the dressing gown that had been her only clothing for the last three days. She climbed into the bed, grimly anticipating another night of staring at the walls and ceiling, desperately tired but unable to still her mind. Her body, though, had finally reached the breaking point. In her mind’s eye, she saw the dam, the frozen lake, and the child skating rebellious circles on its surface. She watched as a network of delicate cracks began appearing in the ice under the child’s skates. The child turned and skated for shore, but the cracks spread more quickly. Then, all at once, the ice broke. As the child fell, Diana was also plunged into unconsciousness.

* * *

 

 

She was on the airfield. Steve was running away from her. She called after him, but he didn’t stop. She began to run, trying to catch him, but he stayed ahead of her in the shifting fog. She ran faster. She had to catch him. Then something caught her toe, and she was falling. She hit the ground hard, but it wasn’t asphalt that she landed on. It was…sand? She looked up. The sun was high over the beaches of Themiscyra. The sounds of fighting surrounded her. Amazons fought with Germans on the beach while she lay in the sand. Rising to her feet, she grabbed a nearby bow and whirled, looking for a target. There was a German. His gun was already raised. She couldn’t get her bow up in time. There was a flash and a bang. Someone had jumped in front of her. It was Steve. A dark stain was spreading across his uniform. She looked up to see the German’s gun still trained on her. He pulled the trigger again and she was blinded by the flash. Her vision cleared and she was back on the airfield. Fire surrounded her. Something moved in the corner of her vision. She moved to block it, but it was no bullet. One metal band, then another, wrapped around her. Lifted her high. Slammed her into the ground. Tightened on her chest. Part of her brain told her she’d been here before, said it knew how this ended, but she was trapped. The bands circled ever tighter. Her vision began to blur and go black at the edges. She looked into the sky, knowing what she was going to see. There was the dark shape, flying into the clouds. Time seemed to slow and the world hovered on a breath. Then, the explosion in the sky. She felt her heart shatter as she screamed Steve’s name. The bands encircling her began jostling her side to side. Wait, this wasn’t right! Everything paused in a moment of confusion, and then the airfield winked out of existence.

Diana gasped as her eyes flew open. She could barely move and something had her shoulders, shaking her violently. As she came to consciousness, she realized that she was tangled in the bedsheets and it was Etta, kneeling on the bed next to her, whose hands were on her shoulders. “Wake up!” Etta had been saying. “Please, love, wake up! Diana!” As soon as Diana started trying to untangle herself, Etta stopped shaking her. Etta’s hands, though, did not leave Diana’s shoulders.

“Etta…” Diana croaked, her voice raspy from disuse. It was the first word she had spoken in four days.

“I’m right here, love,” Etta replied. “I heard you scream from across the hall. It sounded terrible.”

Diana struggled to free herself and sit up, the memories fresh in her mind. “I…I saw the plane,” she said haltingly. “I saw…I saw the explosion in the sky.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I watched him die.”

“Oh, honey,” Etta breathed, and drew Diana to her breast, tucking Diana’s head under her chin. Something in this motherly gesture sent a great crack through the dam that was Diana’s self-control, and Diana felt her bottled-up grief begin to spill out.

“I watched him die. I watched him die,” she repeated, her voice pitched low but trembling with emotion. “I watched him die. I watched him die.  _ I watched him die! I— _ ” Her voice had been rising in both pitch and volume, and at last crescendoed into a wordless wail. Tears filled her eyes as all of the feelings of anger, hurt, and loss she had been carrying around finally bubbled over and found their way out. She screamed and sobbed, letting the tide of her grief wash over her and overwhelm her. Etta held Diana close as, at last, the Amazon cried. 

* * *

 

 

Some time later, when her tears had slowed and the sobs had faded to the occasional sniffle, Diana spoke. “Thank you, Etta.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Etta replied. “You’ll have to speak up. I can’t exactly hear you past—” she gestured vaguely to her ample bosom, and was rewarded with a low chuckle. Diana raised her head and managed a wavering, watery smile. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. For the—”

“Oh, it was nothing!” Etta cut Diana off rather brusquely, but her eyes were soft and her voice gentle as she continued. “You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” Impulsively she pressed Diana back to her chest, and Diana wrapped her arms around Etta’s middle. Something about Diana’s response reminded Etta of the way her nine-year-old niece would latch onto her when she got scared, and Etta’s heart ached for the young woman in her arms. — _ She’s brand new to this world, _ Etta thought sadly. — _ New to death, new to sorrow. She’s so young to suffer so much. _

Etta sat in silence with Diana for a long time, one hand on Diana’s dark hair and the other gently rubbing her back. The quiet was almost absolute, punctuated only by the occasional sniffle from Diana. Eventually, Etta shifted and made to untangle herself from Diana, but the Amazon clutched more tightly around her waist.

“Don’t go,” Diana said in a sleepy, childlike voice. 

“Of course not,” Etta murmured. She wormed her hips towards the foot of the bed so she could lie more comfortably against the pillows, and once she was settled Diana curled against her. Diana, spent after her crying spell and her body exhausted from three days without sleep, nodded off at once. Etta, however, remained awake a while longer, recalling the stories she’d heard from Sameer and crew of the hero goddess Diana and comparing them with the silent, grieving Diana who had been in her house the last three days. She finally drifted off, thinking how strange it was that she, Etta Candy, had held a literal goddess in her arms while she cried and rocked the goddess to sleep as if she were her nine-year-old niece.

 

* * *

Etta woke the next morning to find that Diana had rolled over in the night and was now curled around one of the pillows. Moving carefully so as not to wake her, Etta slipped out of the bed and crept out of the room to start breakfast. She was just taking the coffee off the stove when she heard the squeak of bedsprings through the open bedroom door. She poked her head out of the kitchen in time to see Diana shuffle out of the bedroom in her underwear, red-eyed and frowzy-haired but still managing to look statuesque. — _ I suppose she  _ is _ a goddess _ , Etta thought with a tinge of envy, thinking of her own tummy and the corsets that were necessary to keep it contained. Now that there was no crying and clinging, Etta decided that Diana was actually nothing like her niece. Realizing that she was staring, Etta quickly turned her attention back to coffee and breakfast. Steve had certainly been right to call this woman distracting. Thankfully, Diana had been rubbing her eyes and hadn’t even seen Etta look around the corner.

“Are you hungry, dear?” Etta called, now safe in the kitchen and able to gather her wits. Diana turned one of the dining room chairs and sat sideways so she could see into the kitchen, hugging her knees to her chest. 

“I’m famished,” she replied, still fighting the last vestiges of sleep. “And the coffee smells amazing!” Steve had introduced her to coffee as well, and she’d taken an immediate liking to its rich flavor. Etta set a cup of the steaming brew in front of her along with milk and sugar. Diana added just enough sugar to take the edge off the bitterness of the coffee, then lifted the cup to her lips and took a sip. Warmth spread through her, and after a couple minutes of sipping she felt the last wisps of the fog in her brain burn off. She felt infinitely better than she had over the last few days. Last night had been incredibly difficult, but she knew that the emotions had to get out if they were to be dealt with. She had slept without nightmares in Etta’s arms, and after three days of being awake the rest had done wonders for her. Thinking about Steve was still unbelievably painful, but at least she could  _ feel _ again. The cold numbness that had possessed her the night after the battle in Germany and her subsequent inability to find her words terrified her. She had felt like one of the spirits from the stories she’d been told that wandered around the realm of Hades, drifting aimlessly as shadows of their former selves with no purpose and no soul. The creak of another dining room chair snapped her out of her reverie. She started slightly, slopping some of the coffee onto her leg. Etta was up again in a flash and retrieved a damp dishrag from the kitchen.

“Here you are,” she said, offering the rag to Diana, who took it and wiped her leg. Then, suddenly, Diana paused mid-swipe. She looked at Etta, clad in nightgown and dressing gown, then back at her own mostly-bare body, then back at Etta again.

“I’m not wearing any clothes!” she exclaimed, rising from her chair and disappearing into the spare room. She emerged seconds later, settling the borrowed dressing gown around her shoulders as she returned to the dining room and took her place again at the table, now laden with breakfast. The dressing gown really was ludicrously short, but at least she was much less distracting. Etta doubted that any person—man or woman—could handle that much Amazon in their morning and stay focused on much else.

“Are you up to going out with me today?” Etta asked as Diana dug into the eggs and toast on her plate. “We should probably get you some proper things to wear. I picked out a couple of things I thought you might like, and the tailor at Selfridge’s still has all your measurements, but you’ll need to try them on, of course. And I’m sure you’ll want to pick some things of your own.” Diana murmured her assent, and the two women chatted comfortably over breakfast about the plans Etta had made for the day. When breakfast was over and the dishes washed—Diana was now happy to help with the cleanup—they returned to their rooms to get ready. Diana had to tackle the mess resulting from four days of neglecting her hair, so Etta was dressed well before she was. Etta happened to poke her head into the spare room just as Diana was stepping into her armored skirt.

“Oh, no no no no!” Etta said, rushing over. “Can’t wear that into town! We are getting you proper clothes and you will _ not _ be wearing  _ armor _ under it!”

Diana paused. “I have nothing else,” she replied simply. 

Etta thought hard, and then snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it!” She ordered Diana back into the dressing gown, which she tied snugly, then took down Diana’s traveling cloak and draped it around Diana’s shoulders. Stepping back to appraise her work, she said, “That ought to do the trick, at least until we can get you some proper clothes!” Then she looked down at Diana’s bare feet. “I suppose you will have to wear those…boots, though. My feet are much too small for you.” 

“I feel very…exposed,” Diana said, once she had laced on her boots and greaves and stood to follow Etta to the door. She felt completely ridiculous wearing her boots and nothing else but the thin dressing gown under her cloak. “What if we are attacked?”

“Attacked? Nonsense! Nobody’s going to  _ attack _ us!” Etta retorted. “Besides, if we are, you can just give ‘em one good kick and that will be the end of that!” With that, Etta opened the door and ushered Diana out. Etta locked the door and marched down the stairs, and Diana had little choice but to follow.

* * *

 

 

Diana stayed with Etta for the next couple of weeks as she adjusted to everyday life in the world of men. Their first day out had gone by in a blur; after getting Diana properly clothed at Selfridge’s, Etta had taken her to a massive museum with a stately, many-columned front that Diana had taken a liking to at once. Diana in tow, Etta had barged into a basement office filled with artifacts, informed the astonished man behind the desk that she had found him an assistant, and demanded that Diana be given a job at once. The man, whose name was Edward, was surprised but did not seem terribly offended by the intrusion, so Diana guessed that he and Etta must be friends. He had still blustered his protestations until Etta had towed Diana over to a display case containing a clay tablet with ancient writing and ordered her to read it. The words had died in the man’s throat as Diana read a passage of the text in its original language and then translated it effortlessly into English. The man had practically dragged her into the museum director’s office, and after a whirlwind of impassioned speeches and negotiations and handshaking Diana found herself descending the steps outside the museum next to a beaming Etta with orders to report back for work the next day at 8:00 sharp.

Three days after Diana had started her new job, Etta turned up at the museum right around lunchtime. She hauled Diana off through London to a small office where she ordered Diana to sit and have her picture taken. This done, she returned Diana to the museum, brushing off all of Diana’s puzzled inquiries with promises that all would be revealed in time. At the end of the workday, Diana came out of the building to find Etta waiting for her, carrying a large manila envelope and practically bouncing up and down in her excitement. Still Etta refused to tell Diana what the great secret was. At last, once they were back in Etta’s flat, Etta turned to Diana and held out the envelope to Diana with a flourish, declaring that Diana now had “papers.” Diana opened it to find a British passport and an official-looking form declaring her to be a legal permanent resident of England. Etta, seeing Diana’s slightly puzzled expression, quickly explained the importance of the documents in her hands. As Etta talked about the lengthy application process, Diana realized that procuring the documents she now held so quickly was no easy feat, and looked at the shorter woman with new respect. Etta, it seemed, was incredibly well connected and had called in several favors on her behalf. She tried to thank Etta, but Etta shrugged her thanks away with a smile.

Diana soon found that there were a thousand little things around London that reminded her of Steve, and she now had to combat the grief that attacked her every time something new brought him sharply to mind. One week into her new life as a Londoner, Etta took her to a nearby cafe to celebrate her first successful week on the job. Diana was in the middle of describing a set of Roman armor that she and Edward were currently studying when her eyes fell on a display of wristwatches in the store they were passing. The words died on her lips and she clutched at Etta as she wobbled on legs that were suddenly unsteady. Etta guided her to a nearby bench where they sat for a few minutes as she cried. On another occasion, a young couple passed Diana as she was wandering the museum on her free time. Her heart gave a painful lurch as she looked down at their clasped hands, and in her mind she heard a voice say, “No no no, we’re not together! Not like that.” His hand had lingered for just a moment, though, before he let her go. She found herself smiling through the pain.

The nightmares didn’t go away entirely, but they started to come less frequently. Sometimes two or three nights would pass between them, and often Diana was able to return to sleep once she had awoken and the nightmares had passed. She found that she didn’t wake up with her throat raw from screaming, although she still called to Steve in her dreams. Reliving that horrible moment was still agonizingly painful, but she was learning to bear the pain without falling apart. Diana felt like she was starting to come to grips with her loss.

Then, one night, something changed.

The nightmare began as it usually did. She was lying on the airfield, her ears ringing. He was helping her up. She had one last glimpse of those beautiful blue eyes. There were the tank treads, pinning her to the ground. There was the plane, rising into the clouds. She whispered his name one last time before that terrible fireball lit the sky. She screamed and the airfield disappeared, but when she opened her eyes she was not in her bed. It was dark, and she was lying in the stern of a boat that she did not recognize. She sat up slowly, peering through the mist that shrouded the boat and trying to figure out where she was, and froze. There was a man standing at the bow. She could barely see, but she knew that shock of dark blonde hair. She had traced the lines of that figure with her hands, mapped the curves of that body with her own. For a long moment she sat there, unable to breathe. Then, afraid to believe, she whispered, “Steve?”

He turned. His eyes met hers, and he smiled at her. She was moving before she realized it, scrambling on her hands and knees in her haste and rising to her feet just in time to crash into Steve. His arms encircled her as she clung to him as though she were drowning and he was her lifeline. Hot tears sprang to her eyes, and she wept as he held her. She was certain she would never let go of him. Her tears were just beginning to ebb when the boat ground gently to a halt. She felt his arms move, his hands grasp her shoulders, and then he was pulling her gently away from him. He held her at arm’s length, looking at her with a tenderness that flooded her with warmth, then swept her hair behind her ear and took her face in his hands. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the wonderful sensation, but then he spoke.

“I have to go.” Her eyes snapped open. His smile was apologetic. He drew her face to his in a slow, sweet kiss, and as they separated brought his hands from her face to her shoulders as if to let her go. Then, as if unable to stop himself, raised one hand again to press it impulsively to her cheek. She turned her face into his warm touch, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against hers. For the space of a couple breaths they were connected, and then he drew back again. “I have to go,” he repeated, giving her shoulders one last squeeze before he released her completely. “I’ll be waiting for you here!” With that, he stepped out of the boat onto the shore and strode away into the mist.

Diana snapped to consciousness, sitting bolt upright with a gasp. She could almost still feel Steve’s lips on hers, his hand against her cheek. Somehow the new dream had felt more solid. More real. She threw back the covers and swung her feet to the floor, unable to shake the feeling that this new dream was different somehow. As she stood and stretched, her eye fell on the battered German cross on the nightstand. Her one memento of her brave pilot. She picked it up, turning it over in her hand and tracing the marks in the enamel with two fingers. She smiled sadly. For the thousandth time, she wished she had been able to tell him that she loved him as well before he ran off to his death. She didn’t know how long she stood there in the darkened room, hands around the cross and lost in thought, when something startled her out of her reverie. Her eyes darted around the room and she sank into a half-crouch, her senses now on high alert. What was it that had gotten her attention? After a long, tense moment, she straightened up and relaxed. She turned her attention back to the cross in her hands, and froze.  _ That _ was the source of...whatever it was! Closing her eyes, she spread her two fingers over the face of the cross, and concentrated. There it was! So faint it was almost imperceptible, she felt the barest whisper of pressure against her skin. As she focused more intently, she realized the weak pulse of energy was regular and rhythmic. She quieted her breathing, blocking out the world as she attuned her senses and tried to understand the pattern of the energy. The pulses came in pairs. Why did she recognize that pattern? A pair of pulses. Pulses? Her mind honed in on that word. Hm. Pulses. That pattern was almost like...almost like…

She dropped the cross.

It was a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!!!*
> 
> This chapter hurt me so much to write. Angsty Diana makes me want to cry. Also this story has absolutely EXPLODED since I started it. I figured that the chapters would be 1-2k words and this one weighs in at nearly 9.5K. It's amazing how the story kinda takes over and you can't stop writing until you've written it properly. Etta is turning out to be a veritable force of nature and I am here for it.
> 
> The bit about her keeping Steve warm during their first night camping is a direct reference to a chapter from Variations on the Word Sleep by blueincandescence. If you haven't read it yet GO READ IT because it is amazing and it will make you feel all the things!
> 
> As always, kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are always welcome. Your responses help inspire me to keep writing :)


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